Song Fic: I Almost Do
by audrey.lynnae.miller
Summary: Story about Katniss' feelings for Gale post-Mockingjay.


It was late at night, maybe one or two. I hadn't bothered to check the time when my third nightmare had woken me up. I glanced over at Peeta, and he was fast asleep. A small smile came to my lips as I watched his even breathing. Peeta has no idea how much I love him.

The moonlight spilled in through our bedroom window as I slipped out of the room, down to the kitchen to grab some hot chocolate. I slip silently down the stairs, and am enveloped by the silver beams of moonlight. They dance around me as I boil water, and lean against the kitchen table. I felt guilty for where my mind was slipping, but I can never help it.

I miss Gale.

I bet this time of night, he's still up. Stressed from getting District 2 back in order. Tired from a long hard week. I bet he's sitting in his chair by a big window, looking out at the city. My heart started pounding as it toyed with a new idea- I bet he's thinking about me. No, I couldn't let myself dare to think that. I can't afford to think things like that. I have Peeta, right? Even though I didn't deserve him, Peeta was here, still.

As I pour my water from the kettle and search for the hot cocoa mix, my mind wanders to a conversation I long to have with Gale. How it takes me everything not to call him. How every night is a battle, how every time something gets hard for me, or things get difficult between me and Peeta, how I want to call him and hear his advice. I want him to to know that every time I don't, I almost do.

I almost do.

I sigh heavily and sit down at the table. Peeta stirs, and I know he senses my absence. The bed creaks, and he starts coming downstairs. He knows that some nights, my nightmares are only satiated by hot cocoa. He lumbers down the stairs. Three years later, and he still is bad on his leg. Another small smile appears on my lips. He joins me at the table, pulling a chair close to me, and taking a free hand.

"What was it this time?" His gentle blue eyes search my grey ones.

The smile is gone as I remember the terror that flooded my veins. "Prim was with Rue. I had to save one of them."

He subconsciously rubs my hand with his thumb. He understands. My mind drifts back to Gale, and more guilt immerses me.

I bet he thinks I've moved on or hate him. Each time he calls me, I tell Peeta to either ignore it or tell Gale I'm not home. I'm too much of a chicken to talk to him and face him. It's probably never occurred to him that I can't say hello to him, and risk another goodbye.

I'm snapped back to reality when Peeta tells me that we should go back to bed. I look down at my untouched cocoa and hold the mug up a few inches to indicate that I want to finish it. He nods, and heads back up stairs. _Thump, thump, thump._ Yet another small smile.

I sigh, as the smile fades. Gale and I had quite a mess, and Peeta so willingly helped me pick it up. Now that Peeta is gone, I can let the guilt show on my face. My dream really wasn't about Prim and Rue. In my dream, Gale and I were sitting on a chair in the moonlight. I was sitting sideways on his lap, and we were talking easily. He looks up at me, and brushes a few loose strands of hair back, and whispers, "I love you, Catnip." And then he asked me if I wanted to try again with him.

And I almost do.

Again, like waves rushing over me, I want to call him and tell him that I want to run to him, and how badly I want to talk to him, how badly I want our friendship back. And I hope he knows, that every time I don't, I almost do.

I finish my cocoa, head back upstairs, then lay next to Peeta. He protectively wraps his arms around me. He knows I'm fighting back my most inner thoughts, although he's not quite sure what those truly are. I sigh and scooch closer to him, letting his warmth bring me closer to sleep.

Yes, I bet this time of night, Gale is still up. I bet he's exhausted, worn out, and almost grumpy. I bet he wishes he could be out in the woods, hunting-doing what he does best. I bet he's exhausted from a long work week. I bet he's getting ready to head to bed, and I bet he'll take one more look at the city out of his big window by his favorite chair. I

I hope sometimes he wonders about me.


End file.
